When Mother’s Day is Hard

Editor: What struggles do adoptive mothers contend with on Mother’s Day? In the following post, IAC alumni Traci tells her story about facing down her conflicting emotions this past Sunday.

Traci with her two children and their birthmothers.

Mother’s Day is not always as pretty as a Hallmark card. In fact, for many of us out there, Mother’s Day has a drop (or a tsunami) of sad or mad mixed in. If you have experienced loss or infertility on your path to motherhood or are still waiting desperately, you know what I am talking about. For me, as an adoptive parent who also has a history of infertility, Mother’s Day is always a roller coaster of emotions—both joyful and hard.

This year, I woke up feeling tired and a little off. My son snuck into the bed and snuggled in with a big smile on his face. This is what I was waiting for. As soon as he was done snuggling and ready for action, my sweet husband rustled him downstairs so I could sleep in a little more. While I dozed, he created a beautiful breakfast. Afterwards, we went for a family walk/bike ride to the neighborhood pond. It was a beautiful day. My kids were in a good mood. Have we reached Hallmark card fabulous yet?

Well….almost. Remember, I woke feeling a bit off, and I wasn’t fighting a cold or anything like that. Despite all this great stuff happening, I felt a little sad. Weighed down, really. You see, our children’s birthmothers had joined us the day before for a Birth Mother’s Day celebration, and our daughter’s birthmother, who lives out of town, had spent the night. Seeing them always makes me feel joyful because they truly are two beautiful women who did something so big for my husband and I that I can never really put into words how grateful we feel. But seeing them also reminds me of how much they sacrificed for me to have this beautiful Mother’s Day morning—something that makes me literally ache inside for them and shoots little bursts of guilt down my spine. Then there’s the grief I feel for my own lost and never-to-be pregnancies. And finally, because I couldn’t have been a mother without our birthmothers, I know I will always share Mother’s Day—something that the small, childish part of me sometimes rebels against. As I say to my 4-year-old son almost daily, “It really is hard to share.”

But then again, with adoption, that sharing goes both ways. Take that morning. So, after my precious hour of sleeping in, I woke to some wonderful smells brewing downstairs and decided it was time to get out of bed. I heard my daughter laughing and talking with her birthmother in her room and, even though the thing I wanted most in that moment was to get a kiss from my daughter first thing on Mother’s Day, I tiptoed past her room so they could have that special moment together. After all, I get kisses every morning, but her birthmother does not. A few minutes later, my daughter (prompted by her birthmother, I am sure) came downstairs with her Mother’s Day card and wished me a Happy Mother’s Day with a hug and a kiss. As I am hugging all my love into my little girl, I am highly aware of her birthmother sitting upstairs by herself with the knowledge that, had she made another choice, she wouldn’t have had to share this moment.